


I Tell Myself I Was Doing Alright

by Molespeople



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molespeople/pseuds/Molespeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan Cooper is making questionable relationship decisions. Rick Ford is her boyfriend?</p><p> </p><p>BASICALLY AT 2:00AM - I WAS LIKE SUSAN COOPER IS SUCH AN ALPHA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Susan Cooper finds that waking up next to Rick Ford after a night of champagne and beef jerky...and sex ... is kind of terrifying. She normally has better control of herself than that. Susan Cooper, as a rule, just doesn't go around sticking her bits into random omegas all willy-nilly. Not that Ford is a random omega, but still, it's like her mother always said, "Sex is perfectly unnatural and nobody does it and that especially applies to you, Susan." 

She's really got to stop quoting her mother.

It's not that she dislikes Ford, but man, the guy sure likes to overcompensate for his omega-ness with all that stereotypical alpha bravado bullshit. 

She can kind of understand his reasoning though. Most of the agents for the CIA _are_ alphas, Fine, a beta, and Ford being the only exceptions. She didn't exactly try to advertise her alpha status when she was working in the basement. But it's not like she fits the typical alpha mold either - she's not tall or muscular and she likes to bake. But she's also a really good spy, I mean, she can kick some serious ass, but that's another matter.

But after a couple of rounds, you know getting it all out of their systems, Ford goes on his merry way, she goes on hers, and that should be the end of it

Except it's not.


	2. Say It With Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick Ford and Susan Cooper have an important and weird conversation.

Susan is just enjoying the agent breakroom with its good coffee and poop-free breakfast pastries. She's not hiding from Ford just back from another mission. Nope, that's not what she's doing at all.

"Cooper."

She may or may not flinch. Wow, that coffee is _hot_. "Ford," she says coolly as she places the coffee cup on the counter. Well, it would be cool if she could stop bobbing her head.

Ford grabs her by the shoulders and looks deep into her eyes. "I'm pregnant." 

Ford keeps looking in her eyes like he's expecting to find a quarter or a diamond ring. Does he want her to marry him? 

"With emotion," he finishes five thousand seconds later.

Susan slaps his hands away. "You thought that was the best place to pause dramatically? I just swallowed my tongue. Excuse me while I give myself the Heimlich maneuver. Jesus Christ!

Ford tilts his head. "You know, now that I think about it, probably not. But the point still stands."

"Oh, I'm sorry, please elaborate about your emotional gestation."

Ford waves his fingers about. "This tiptoeing about like I'm a milk-eyed omega twat. I know what I want and what I don't what - flowers, matching pajamas, breakfast in bed, walks on the beach.

"Who doesn't like flowers?" 

Ford points his finger in her face. "Me. In addition to 27 other languages, I'm fluent in the language of flowers. For six months, I was deep undercover in a steampunk cult intent upon forcibly inflicting their 19th-century aesthetic upon the modern world. I took that cult apart bolt by bolt, punk by punk."

"Well, thank you for that. I mean, can you imagine me in a corset and a top hat?"

"You're welcome," Ford responds gruffly. "And I can. It would be an attractive look for you."

"That was a rhetorical question." Susan reaches for her coffee and Ford's eyes track her every movement. "Stop imagining me in a corset and a top hat, Ford." 

"That's like telling me to stop breathing, Cooper, and I can only hold my breath for 43 minutes and 26 seconds."

Susan doesn't even have time to respond to that frankly ridiculous statement when a flustered secretary scurries into the breakroom. "Agent Ford, Deputy Director Crocker needs to speak with you."

Ford points forcefully at the linoleum in the breakroom like it's offended him and his mother. "I am in the middle of a conversation, a heart-to-heart, if you will. Deputy Director Crocker can shove it for five minutes."

And then Crocker materializes in the breakroom, and that's frankly a little unsettling. "Well, I'm sorry to interrupt this 'heart-to-heart', Ford, my office. Now." 

"It's not a heart-to-heart," Susan mumbles. 

Crocker raises an eyebrow. "Do I care?" She snaps her fingers at the secretary. "And bring me one of those pastries," Crocker demands before walking off.

Ford scowls at Crocker's retreating back before looking at Susan. "This conversation isn't over, Cooper. We can continue it over dinner tomorrow night, Bourbon Steak at 8." He strides out of the breakroom and Susan barely has a minute to recover from whatever the heck just happened when he pops his head back in. "And Cooper, if you must buy me flowers, I like lavender."

\-------

Susan consults with Nancy, whose sage advice is, "Well, at this point, I think you have to buy him flowers." And then Nancy got excited and asked to pick out the vase, and that's how Susan Cooper ends up waiting in a booth at a swanky steakhouse with a potted lavender plant. It wouldn't be so bad if the pot didn't have a possessed-looking anthropomorphic bee saying, "Bee Mine." Yeah, she's not getting any strange looks at all.


	3. Going in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan goes on a date? with Ford.

Susan's watching Ford dig into a 40-ounce $250 tomahawk ribeye, and she's praying that he doesn't want her to pay. Her credit card still hasn't forgiven her for her clothing purchases in Rome and Budapest. "Is this a date?"

Ford looks up from his steak. "Is this a date? No." He waves his fork about. "We're having a conversation and we're eating. It's called being economical with one's time."

"Oh, okay, economical. I guess I just got confused what with the flowers and the fancy steakhouse, which seems like the opposite of economical," Susan says with a shake of her head.

Ford throws down his cutlery, abandoning his overpriced piece of dead cow. "One," he says, gesturing with his hand, "you said the less said about the flowers the better. Two, would you have wanted to go to the International House of Bloody Pancakes? I'll keep that in mind, Cooper. Third, after being stranded in the Sahara for 28 days without food," he pauses dramatically, "or water, it makes you appreciate the finer things in like, like this steak."

Susan picks at her lobster pot pie. "Well, Nancy put a lot of thought into that vase. You could at least say thank you."

Ford gestures to the pot of lavender tucked away in the corner of the booth, hidden from view from the rest of the restaurant. "You're telling me she chose that weird bee man on purpose."

"Just for that, I'm going to tell her that _you loved it_ ," Susan says nonchalantly as she eats some pot pie. She ignores Ford's glare. "And yes, IHOP or, you know, a coffee shop would have been preferable if we just needed to have a conversation."

"As much as I love an aspect of danger and daring in all of my activities, IHOP doesn't have hotel rooms, and I prefer a bed for my lovemaking."

Susan squints at Ford. "Wait. I just got déjà vu. Are we in the fucking Matrix now? Are you going to offer me the red pill or the blue pill, Morpheus?"

Ford picks up his knife and fork and starts cutting into Fred Flintstone-cut of meat. "Eat your pot pie, Cooper."

And Ford apparently has a room at the Four Seasons, because he charges the whole meal to his room, her credit card thanks him. He invites her up to his room and she goes. She's really not sure why? A moment of weakness? The hot bag of cookies he takes to go?

Next time they have a "conversation", they go to IHOP and then back to her place. Ford mocks her collection of Le Creuset. "Why do you need all these colorful pots? After my plane crashed in the wilds of Siberia, I cooked four-course meals with only a handful of nails and a Mylar thermal blanket." Susan just rolls her eyes and takes off his clothes.

And it kind of turns into a weird habit, if sleeping together can be a habit.

\----------

Susan hugs the wall as she navigates the dank corridors of a secret basement level in Quebec. Nancy is guiding her through the levels, but she's a little distracted by her personal life.

_"How was your last not-a-date date date with Ford?"_

Susan creeps up behind a guy, plunges a knife into his skull, and then tries not to gag. "We're not dating."

_"Um, actually, I think that by the very definition of dating, you are, in fact, dating. And there are two goons behind you."_

"Oh, god, don't tell me that, Nancy," Susan whispers hotly as she shoots one man in the head and breaks the other's neck.

_"It makes sense if you think about it. As an analyst, you could focus all your protective alpha instincts on Fine. But now that you're not an analyst, all those protective feelings are centered on Ford."_

Susan wrinkles her face up at the thought. "You're making me sound like a pillow."

_"You would be a very nice pillow though. Like a pillow from Laura Ashley. Ooh, ooh, what kind of pillow would I be?"_. Before Susan can put together a coherent pillow description, Nancy interrupts, _"Oh Susan, I'm detecting a heat signature that appears to correlate with the target. Take a left at the next corridor."_

Susan collects the package and escapes the Québécois dungeon of dreariness unscathed. "Okay, I'm going to head back now."

_"Look at you - killing it! I'll tell Sharon to tell Ford you'll be back this evening."_

Susan resists the urge to rub her forehead as she pulls her phone out of her coat. "That's enough talk about my personal life, Nancy. How are things going with 50?

_"Not bad really. Curtis is doing well. We had a Skype date a week ago. He gets lonely on tour. He sent me another crate of that vitaminwater.  I saved you some of those dark purples ones that you like."_

"Aww, thank you. That was really nice of you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for the comments and kudos. It really, really means a lot to me - and it keeps me motivated to keep writing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. I'm Hot Just Like an Oven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan exercises her protective alpha instincts.

There's something about Ford that sends Susan's protective alpha instincts into overdrive. It might be the fact that he looks like a weird bald puppy. But after six months of not-dating, they've kind of accidentally settled into a relationship of sorts, like a very Twilight Zone-esque situation. It seems like everybody thinks they're dating; Nancy's even created a portmanteau, Fooper. Personally, Susan thinks that Ford Coop sounds a little better, but that's beside the point.

Ford kind of grows on you like a fungus. Morels are _delicious_ , so it's not all bad, especially when the strange improbable exaggerations kind of taper off, and you can have an actual conversation without Rick claiming that he fought off four sharks with lasers for eyeballs gaining a cybernetic leg in the process. He broke his leg skiing and has an impressive amount of metal in his left leg and also a touch of arthritis. But, Susan's hell-bent on making sure that he actually doesn't need robotic replacement parts any time soon. 

And then Sharon, who keeps her updated on Ford's movements in exchange for baked goods, tells her that Ford's cover has been blown in Orlando, Florida. You know, at Disney World.

So that's how four hours later, Janie Lemmons, a 45-year-old beta supermarket cashier with a serious hard-on for all things Disney ends up scoping out Fantasyland, the last reported location of Ford.

Susan self-consciously adjusts her Mickey Mouse Ear Hat as she tries to makes out Nancy's garbled instructions. The screams coming from the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train is not helping. So she's a little distracted when Pluto sneaks up on her. At first, she's like, "Oh, that's kind of neat. Maybe I could get a picture for Nancy." But when Pluto starts roughly prodding her person, she becomes a little concerned. "Jesus Christ, you're handsy, Pluto. What are you looking for? A bone? You're not going to find any there."

"No, I'm looking for weapons," says Pluto. His words tinged with an Estonian accent. 

And that's how Susan gets in a fight with three Belles, an Ariel, two Elsas, an Anna, Gaston, Snow White, four dwarves and Pluto. She wins. She also gets stabbed in the thigh and thrown through a table in the Princess Fairytale Hall. Like honestly, who would suspect that a group of Estonians would infiltrate Disney World in order to ransom/destroy the park? They weren't exactly forthcoming with their exact reasoning during their encounter. But eventually she extracts herself from the fray, wraps her thigh with fabric ripped from the dress of one of the Belles – Thanks Belle #2 - and clambers to the roof to rescue Ford, who according to Sharon had been undercover as Grumpy. 

There might be a moment of horrible panic because Grumpy is lying on his side. There’s a little bit of movement when Susan limps over there as fast as she can. She pulls off the Grumpy head and there is Ford, pale and just soaking with sweat. 

“I’m hot just like an oven,” Ford mutters before he gags. 

“How long have you been out here, Ford?” Susan asks as she assesses the man in front of her. Heat exhaustion is looking like a real possibility. She starts to look for a way to get him out of the costume and other possible injuries. 

Ford looks at her, a bleary look in his eye, “I need some lovin’.”

Susan shakes her head. “You’re not singing ‘Sexual Healing’ right now. We need to get you out of the sun,” she says as she pulls him up. Her thigh really does not like her right now and she thinks Snow White got a lucky punch at her ribs. 

“ Sexual healing,” Ford says with a nod of agreement as he stumbles against her. 

Somewhere between the roof and the ground floor, Ford loses his shirt. Somewhere between the ground floor and the doorway to the rest of the park, he loses his trousers. 

They get a lot of weird looks as they navigate through the park trying to stay in the shade. Susan’s kind of just totally focusing on Ford in this moment. Later, she’ll realize that the buzzing she heard in her ear was Nancy trying to give her instructions. The last thing Susan remembers with any clarity is the look on the drink vendor’s face as she grabs as many bottles of water as she can while yelling, “I need this. It’s an emergency!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I had to prep for my phone interview tomorrow. AND THEN I RESEARCHED WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT DISNEY WORLD O_O
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments - They mean a lot!
> 
> And this might seem a little cliffhanger-y….but it's not?


	5. Just A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." 
> 
> That's completely out of context.

When Susan comes to, she's lying on a couch and everything hurts and her pillow is wet with drool. A couple of thoughts simultaneously run through her head. Where is she? How did she get here? Where's Ford? Did anybody see her drooling the equivalent of Lake Erie? She answers one of them fairly quickly. She's in her apartment – this is her couch. She's having a little harder time answering the rest. She blearily looks around her apartment and squints at the camera on her ceiling. Yeah, that definitely wasn't there before. Before she can go to DEFCON 5, the apartment door opens.

"Hey you sleepy bunny you. You've been out for ages," whispers Nancy loudly.

"Nancy? I thought I was in Florida. Where's Ford? Did I just have a fever dream? Was it all a dream? Am I still just an analyst?"

Nancy bobs her head. "Well, you were indeed in Florida. This is real life." She waves her arms around like noodles. "Or is it?”

Nancy abruptly stops waving her arms around. "No, this is real life. I got a bit carried away there."

Susan rubs her forehead. "What happened?"

"Well there's good news and bad news."

Susan holds her head in her hands. "Oh, god. Tell me the bad news."

"Well the good news is you're on YouTube! Isn't that exciting?"

Susan looks up from her hands. "How did I get on YouTube? No. No wait, I don't want to know. I'm just feeling," Susan gestures to her throat, "very nauseous right now."

Nancy nods sagely. "I think at the very least that's to be expected."

"But what's the bad news?"

"You know I think it's very exciting. You've gone viral! It's like being a celebrity."

"Tell me the bad news, Nancy, for Pete's sake."

"Well, I really wouldn't describe it as bad really. It could potentially even be _better_ news."

Susan just glares at her. 

"It looks like Fooper is going be made official?"

Susan winces. Every time she hears Fooper, it makes her ear feel so dirty. "How official?" She asks warily.

"Well to avoid any sort of prosecution or negative ramifications..."

And those are not words that Susan likes to hear grouped together. It feels like she just swallowed an aquarium worth of gravel. "How official?"

"You do know that alphas protecting their omegas and vice versa have an amazing degree of latitude with the law. Even if one were to cause millions dollars of property damage and hijack a plane..."

"Why aren't you answering any of my questions? It's really starting to piss me off."

"I know and I'm really sorry, but this whole conversation is quite frankly making me extremely nervous. I said to Crocker, 'Me? I have to be the bearer of bad news? You do know how that usually ends.' But I will say you are actually quite fortunate. Crocker had to kiss some serious arse to even get this deal on the table. On the other hand, it did provide her some fantastic leverage for upping the CIA's budget. To do everything that you did while completely wasted on a potent combination of endocrinal hormones and instincts, it's all very impressive, and apparently a testament to our ability to train outstanding agents."

Susan bows her head in exasperation. This is the most exhausting conversation ever. "How official?"

"Marriage bond official?" Nancy squeaks with her eyes closed as she attempts to make herself a smaller target. Nancy opens her eyes when the expected outburst doesn't happen. 

Susan's body sits on her couch, but she thinks that her brain has left the building. "Marriage bond with who?"

"With Ford. Haven't you been listening?" 

Susan opens her mouth and then closes it. She waits a second and then tries again. "In what world would Ford ever agree to marry me? 

"It's really not a problem really. Ford's already agreed to the arrangement."

Susan thinks that's just baloney and she's going to get to the bottom of this. "Where is Ford?" Susan says with a growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little update!
> 
> I've enjoyed reading all the super lovely comments. Definitely a motivator! Thank you!
> 
> Also this is un-beta'ed. I have the habit of writing words that sound like the word I want, but are not exactly that word. Like totally and totaling in the last chapter - which I found and corrected tonight. If you notice one of these or another typos/mistakes, please feel free to point it out. 
> 
> Thanks again!


	6. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan gets some answers. Is she marrying Ford? Is Ford her boyfriend? Does she need a tetanus shot?

Any plans that Susan has to get to the bottom of this farcical plot resembling that of a romance novel is foiled by two factors. Her entire body aches and when she attempts to stand the first time, she abruptly ends up back on the couch. And Nancy takes her keys. 

"You must think I'm crazy to let you drive in this condition, Susan. Also now that you've regained consciousness, you really do need to swing by the office."

So Nancy drives. 

\--------

Nancy pulls up to the curb at Ford's place. "You know, Susan, I think I took a wrong turn. This cannot possibly be the place."

Susan looks at the dilapidated warehouse and winces. "Yeah, I know. That was my reaction too. I mean it totally looks like you would get lockjaw just going near it." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm going in," Susan says as she clambers out of the car, wincing slightly.

Nancy calls out after her. "Are you up to date with your tetanus shots though? Because I honestly am worried -" The rest of her words get cut off when Susan shuts the car door. She gives Nancy a thumb's up before she navigates through a gap in the chain-link fence.

There's a reason why Susan has only been to Ford's place three times in the last six months. Yes, it's an old, drafty, rusty warehouse, but in the loft area, the only furnishings are a mattress, one folding chair, and a mini-fridge. It's really not a space designed for entertaining. The downstairs holds the more important things to Ford like his luxury car and closet full of designer clothes. While Ford converted the warehouse's office into his closet, he didn't bother to update the bathroom, which is small, horrendous and right out of the '70s. It's just a toilet and a sink. There's definitely a reason why Ford bops around five-star hotels on a biweekly basis, because the whole thing is an impractical mess. Who wears a velvet smoking jacket in a rusty warehouse? Rick Ford that's who. 

Susan sighs and pounds on the side of the building, which rattles ominously. "Ford," she yells, "Let me in. We need to talk. Ford!"

Ford whips open the door and pulls her into the building. He's got a black eye that Susan doesn't remember. "Advertise it to the world, why don't you? There are only two people who know where I live..."

Susan nods and says, "Me and your mother."

While Ford simultaneously says, "You and my dog walker."

They look at each other and narrow their eyes. 

"You don't have a dog." 

"I don't have a mother. I'm a fucking orphan, aren't I?" 

"How can you even say that? I've met your -" 

Ford covers Susan's mouth. "My dog walker," he says with a slow wink.

Susan pushes his hand away from her mouth. "Okay, fine, I get it, Mr. Everybody-I've-Ever-Loved-Has-Been-Gunned-Down."

Ford rolls his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Cooper." He gestures to the ladder leading to the loft. "Can I get you anything to wet your whistle?"

Something about the phrasing strikes a chord with Susan. "Have you been staying hydrated?" She feels his forehead with the back of her hand.

Ford pushes her hand away. "I've already been to medical. I could ask how your stab wound is."

Susan shrugs. "I didn't wake up in the hospital." She looks at the ladder and then back at Ford. "I really want to get you a water though I'm not sure I can handle the ladder at the moment." 

Ford crosses his arms and leans against his car. "I figured," he says with a sigh.

Susan looks at him suspiciously. "You can't get up the ladder either."

"Of course I can get up the bloody ladder." 

Susan's not really buying the bravado right now. "Uh-huh. I'll believe it when I see it, buddy."

Ford just clears his throat and picks some invisible lint off of his sleeve. "Don't say I told you so, Cooper."

Susan chews on her lower lip. She's so focused on not saying l told you so and yes, a ladder is not practical that she says, "So marriage, huh?" 

Ford gives her an unimpressed look. 

"You're okay with this?"

Ford shrugs. "Why the fuck wouldn't I be? You saved my life. I'm fucking thankful."

Susan rolls her eyes. "Uh, because it's marriage. Not a fricking thank-you card from Hallmark."

"They were all out of 'You Saved My Brain From Frying Like An Egg' thank-you cards," Ford says with a furrowed brow.

Susan flaps her arm exasperated. "I guess I just thought this moment would be more romantic."

"Oh, I'm sorry, should I go rent you a fucking white horse? Wait a second so I can go get a white shirt, stand in the rain and profess my fucking undying love as you stand on a fucking balcony."

Susan rolls her eyes. "You kiss your dog walker with that mouth?"

"What do you want me to say, Cooper? Right now, it's a do-or-die scenario. If we don't get married, we're rotting in a jail cell, because you _just had to_ hijack a plane."

Susan throws her hands in the air. "I don't even remember doing that!" 

"Well that's a shame. Irregardless..."

"Still not a word, Ford," Susan says with a sigh.

Ford gives her the stink eye. "Irregardless, we're in our 40s, I think it's safe to say nothing better is gonna come along. So let's bite the bullet."

"Wow. That's really..." Susan blinks, "Why do you have to be such an asshole?" 

Ford raises an eyebrow. "What are you flapping on about? You're the best, Cooper. You're the best spy. You're the best alpha. Nothing better is gonna come along. At least for me anyway."

"Aww." Susan fans her face. "I'm getting a little choked up." She pauses. "And you shouldn't sell yourself short - you're a top agent and a good guy under all the gristle."

"Damn right I'm gristly. One of my ears might have been reattached after I fucking wrestled with a Kodiak bear but I still hear what people say about me at the office."

Six months of being intimately acquainted with Ford has shed light on some of his foibles. Ford's prone to nonsensical exaggeration when he feels insecure or flustered. It's the worst tell ever and it's just one of the reasons he's not allowed to play poker on missions. 

Susan moves her finger back and forth, gesturing to Ford and then herself. "Uh, you and me both. 'There goes Susan. What do you think Patrick gave her this time? Poise Pads that double as plastic explosives. Oh look at Susan, her hair looks stupid today.' We work with a bunch of assholes, but please don't tell Crocker I said that. But you can't let their words influence how you feel about yourself, Ford. So you're going to have better reasons than jail time and nothing better is going to come along for me to agree to this marriage."

Susan didn't think that was an unreasonable request, but Ford is looking at her like she's grown another head. "You really need to ask?" He rumbles.

Susan nods her head. "I actually do. The way I look at it we've never gone on a single date."

Ford looks at the ceiling of his disgusting warehouse in exasperation. "We've gone on loads of dates, Cooper."

"Except when I say, 'Is this a date, Ford?' You say something ridiculous like, 'No, we're just having a conversation while we're eating' or you call it a meeting. One time you even called it a seminar."

Ford points his finger in Susan's face. "We've had conversations while partaking in additional activities in which you learn more about me and I learn more about you. The rest is semantics."

"Oh, okay, so I'm supposed to be a mind reader now."

"You've met my dog walker and you liked her and she liked you. I don't introduce casual shags to my dog walker."

Susan nods her head. "Yeah, I wasn't getting mixed messages at all. This isn't a date and then meet my dog walker," Susan pauses when Ford approaches her.

He looks her straight in the eye and growls, "I love you, you knothead. Is that a clear enough message?"

"Uh-huh," Susan says with a nod. Susan feels a little like a gong in that moment. Ford's declaration of love hits her like a mallet, but leaves pleasant vibrations in its wake.

"Though I'm beginning to wonder if you feel the same way, Cooper."

Susan shrugs. "I wouldn't allegedly hijack a plane for just anyone, you know." She smoothes Ford's suit jacket over his shoulder. "I love you." And then she kisses her fiancé.

"What we have might not be romantic, Cooper, but it's real," Ford whispers. So Susan just smiles and kisses him again.

Susan may or may not run out of the warehouse clutching Ford's hand like she just won a marathon. 

"We're getting married," she yells to Nancy as she squeezes through the crack in the fence. 

Nancy rolls down the window. "I didn't quite catch that." 

Susan clambers into the backseat, which is only slightly awkward because apparently she's not going to be letting go of Ford's hand any time soon. 

Susan looks at Ford and repeats. "We're getting married!"

Nancy claps. "Fooper is going to be official! That's so exciting. We're going to have such an amazing hen night, Susan." 

Ford scoffs, "You call that a portmanteau? Ford Coop is the preferred nomenclature." Susan thinks her face is going to split into an unseemly gaping maw with teeth if she keeps smiling like this. 

"Ford Coop." Nancy's face experiences a series of contortions as she says the word mockingly. "That makes you sound like a car." 

"Exactly. It's powerful." 

Nancy wrinkles her nose. "If you say so. Now, we just need to swing by the office..."

Susan holds a finger up. "Actually, if we could stop and get Ford some water first, that would be great. He needs to stay hydrated."

Nancy sighs. "Okay, but after that we really do need to go by the office. You guys were in there for a really long time. I hope Crocker doesn't kill me and then hides my body like I’m Jimmy Hoffa." 

Susan smiles as she looks at Ford. She's a kick-ass spy and she's getting married to another spy because she apparently hijacked a plane. She can't say her life is boring, but at least she's happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Ideally, I'd like to write more than 200 words about this, but we'll see.
> 
> OH YEAH. AND THE TITLE IS FROM THE SONG "CRAZY ON YOU" by Heart.


End file.
